


You can’t get it back, but it does go on

by anathomical



Category: Life (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathomical/pseuds/anathomical
Summary: Sometimes it takes making a new friend in federal maximum security prison to wrap your head around the truth that it really is all connected.





	You can’t get it back, but it does go on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kunstvogel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstvogel/gifts).



> I offered Life on sort of a lark, but actually getting a request for it was the perfect excuse to go back and rewatch and remember just how brilliant a show it is. I also hadn't given much thought to what things must have been like pre-canon, which made it really fun to think through and play with.
> 
> So thanks for the awesome prompt, and I hope you end up enjoying it.

Charlie had been absolutely sure he knew what his first year in prison would be like. Hard, obviously, given that he was a cop. But he also knew how it would end. He was innocent, after all. It wouldn’t take that long before the truth came out and he was exonerated. Then he could begin investigating who had really killed his best friend, who had set him up.

That surety lasted right up until his second day in Pelican Bay. When he woke up in the infirmary. He was only semi-coherent as the doctor explained that he had a concussion, three cracked ribs, and that the two smallest fingers on his right hand were broken. Any thoughts Charlie had about his innocence, about his “inevitable” exoneration, flew right out the window in favor of something a little bit more immediate: he needed to figure out how he was going to survive.

He should have remembered that he was a cop in prison, and that the corrections officers thought he was dirty so they went out of their way not to notice anything. It made him a target for… well, everyone.

Charlie quickly learned that fighting back only made the eventual beatings when they finally overwhelmed him with numbers worse, but he’d never really learned how to give up. It meant that he spent more time in the infirmary than out, and by the time eighteen months had passed he’d had more bones cracked or broken than were in the human body. He knew because he’d looked it up in a book from the prison library. Spending so much time in the infirmary gave Charlie plenty of time to read, after all.

That and to dwell on the pain of his injuries. During his fifth stay, Charlie could feel the fear of his _next_ beating churning away in his belly. He hadn’t spent much time in prison at that point, but he’d already figured out that fear was not going to help him survive. So Charlie decided to focus on anger instead.

And it worked. Well, it sort of worked. The attacks didn’t stop. Charlie was rarely out of the infirmary for more than a week before he was back in, but by holding onto his anger he was holding out long enough to ensure that he didn’t end up being the only one who needed stitches. It took a while, but after months of meeting vicious beating with vicious beating Charlie found himself spending more and more time outside of the infirmary. The bed in his cell wasn’t much, but it was way better than a prison hospital cot.

After a couple of years Charlie had earned a reputation for not being worth it. Yeah, he was a cop, but he was _dangerous_. Messing with Crews was a good way to get maimed, and there was easier prey to go after.

So the anger wasn’t necessary anymore, but you can’t put toothpaste back in the tube, and Charlie couldn’t put the anger away. It took years before attempting to do so even occurred to him. Years to realize that while the anger was keeping people away from him, keeping him safe, that it was also slowly corroding something important. He needed to get it under control.

Which was easier said than done. After all, the sources of that anger hadn’t gone anywhere. He was still in jail for a crime he hadn’t committed. His dad still wouldn’t let his mom come visit. He’d gotten divorce papers from his wife in the mail. Charlie had all sorts of reasons to be angry, and now that he finally wanted to do something about that, there was no one to ask.

At a loss for where to start, Charlie found himself in the prison library. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d been in a library was. Not like he’d been a huge reader before all this happened, after all. He almost felt lucky that he stumbled across the “Self Help” section almost right as he walked in the door.

Given that he really didn’t expect a book to be able to do much, Charlie just grabbed something small from the shelf. Imagine his surprise as he sat on his bed reading through it later in the day that it was actually kind of… interesting?

“Be in the moment” sort of made sense, or at least Charlie thought so. But, like, what was something like “everything is connected” even supposed to mean? Charlie pursed his lips as he considered the back cover again. “Zen”, huh? Maybe they had some more books in the library. And maybe one of those would make that connected line make sense.

It took over a year before Charlie started to wrap his head around that idea, and he didn’t even do it on purpose. In fact, he didn’t do it at all. The new guy did.

For someone so smart, Ted Earley was kind of an idiot. He proved it on his first day in prison. During lunch, Ted thought that the table with only one person sitting at it was an invitation to walk over. “This seat taken?” he’d asked, laughing nervously at what he apparently thought was a joke.

Charlie looked up at this newcomer for a seemingly interminable handful of seconds. All other new arrivals had figured out that an empty table was a sign of danger, and had taken the hint. So what was different about this guy?

“Um.” Ted chuckled awkwardly, doing his best to be charming. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

It had been years since Charlie had actually had to try to hold up his end of a conversation. Rather than try, he just thought back to something he’d read earlier in the week. “You should speak only when you have something to say.”

Ted looked a bit nonplussed, but he still put on a diplomatic smile. “That’s deep, huh.” He broadened that smile and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ted.”

Charlie recoiled, his reflexes kicking in automatically as Ted’s had moved toward him. He paused only when he remembered what a handshake was and looked like. “Hello, Ted,” he answered, still eying that extended hand without reaching for it. He looked up, meeting Ted’s eyes calmly. “I’m Charlie.”

That hand stayed extended for a couple of seconds, then Ted slowly pulled it back, looking a bit awkward. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Charlie.”

“Is it?” Charlie asked, his tone suggesting that he was utterly serious in the question.

Which left Ted taken aback. He’d just been being polite, but… there was something about Charlie. Ted smiled slightly, a little genuine emotion breaking through his polite expression. “Yeah. I think so.”

Charlie considered that for a second, then nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Ted.”


End file.
